Chapter 589 - 504: Crisis and Reinforcements Arrive
Chapter 589: Chapter 504: Crisis and Reinforcements Arrive
Consciousness struggled upward from the viscous depths of darkness.
Hearing was the first to return.
He could hear rhythmic detonations coming from all around, as if a giant hammer were pounding relentlessly on a thick metal dome.
Each impact sent ripples across the surface of his awareness, intensifying a dull Pain that came from the depths of his Soul.
Next came bodily sensation.
A cold, hard texture pressed against his back—that was the distinctive temperature and feel of the Black Giant Priest’s liquid Metal arm.
His body was being steadily supported, rising and falling slightly in the ceaseless tremors.
Last came the feedback from his biological clock: duration of unconsciousness, approximately... seventeen hours and forty‑three minutes.
Jeming’s eyes snapped open.
His vision was a little blurry; the vertigo brought on by the severe Soul trauma had not yet receded.
The first thing he saw was a flowing expanse of pitch black—that was the tightly packed backs and shoulder armor of the Black Giant Priests.
They had formed an almost perfect spherical defensive formation, enclosing him securely at the center.
Through the tiny gaps between the Priests’ bodies, he could glimpse the crazed flicker of multicolored lights outside: blinding white lightning, eerie green corrosion orbs, blood‑red disintegration ripples...
And countless massive rocks, ice lances, Metal fragments wrapped in physical form, all of them driven to the extreme by Witchcraft Acceleration, crashing down on the outer edge of the defensive ring like a torrential storm.
Every impact made the outermost Priests’ bodies tremble slightly, the transparent Ruins Armor field on their surface surging with violent ripples and emitting the same dull detonations he had heard earlier.
But the field stubbornly held, absorbing and Transformation all Energy attacks, while deflecting or bouncing away physical strikes.
They were like a black Metal sphere moving slowly through a raging ocean of Energy—or rather, like a "tortoise shell" under continuous, ferocious bombardment.
Because their movement speed... was maddeningly slow.
Jeming immediately understood their situation.
The enemy, unable to pierce the Ruins Armor’s defenses, had switched to the crudest yet most effective approach: an unending barrage of Witchcraft saturated with physical impact to batter and pin them down.
Every burst of momentum from a physical collision forced the defensive formation to stall ever so slightly and readjust its center of mass.
At the same time, the Energy shockwaves and debris spraying in all directions continually disrupted the surrounding Elemental environment and spatial structure, making "Accelerated movement" or "short‑range Space Jump" extremely difficult and dangerous.
He forced himself to endure the skull‑splitting agony and began observing their current condition.
Outside the defensive sphere, in the hazy distance, there were more than fifty Fifth Level Wizards wearing the colors of the Chaos Secret Sect and the Tower of Annihilation.
These Wizards circled like vultures on the periphery, constantly maneuvering and releasing Witchcraft.
They coordinated with practiced ease, dividing into several waves that alternated their attacks, maintaining a constant, high‑intensity volume of fire.
What made Jeming’s heart sink further was that these enemies had clearly "learned their lesson."
Whenever a Black Giant Priest tried to raise his Magic Staff, at least five or six enemy Wizards nearby would instantly cease their attacks, body lines snapping back as they retreated and unleashed wide‑area spatial disruption ripples or smoke barriers.
The enemies in other directions would immediately intensify their assault, forcing the Priest to interrupt his Casting and prioritize maintaining the defense.
Once the Black Giant Priests collectively tried to Accelerate and break through in some direction, attempting to bull their way out relying on the Ruins Armor’s defense, those enemies would close in like maggots clinging to bone.
They used various Force Field walls, mire Magic, and spatial stagnation methods to slow their advance, then continued hammering away with storm‑like attacks until the "tortoise shell’s" forward momentum was beaten back.
This was pure delaying tactics.
They didn’t need to kill Jeming; they only had to nail him and this escort squad in place and wait for a more powerful force to arrive.
"Cough... cough..." Jeming tried to speak but tugged on his Soul injuries instead; a bout of violent coughing darkened his vision and filled his mouth with a metallic tang.
He could clearly feel that his injuries were worsening.
The Soul tears caused by forcibly mobilizing the Grotto Heaven before he blacked out had not healed at all; instead, they had spread further as his condition deteriorated.
The sensation that his entire "self" was slowly crumbling into fragments grew sharper and sharper.
His regaining consciousness was less recovery than it was the "Adaptive Evolution" of the Body Refining Technique being forcibly driven under desperate conditions. His flesh, sensing mortal danger, had instinctively squeezed out the last reserves of strength to drag his awareness back from the brink of collapse for a brief moment.
"Must... move..." Jeming struggled, trying to lift his hand.
His arm was as heavy as a thousand pounds; every tiny movement came with Soul‑rending agony.
He looked around at the loyal, silent Black Giant Priests nearby.
The glow of the Ruins Armor on their surfaces was still stable, but Jeming knew that the Transformation Magic provided by the Witchcraft Artifact had to be nearing the limit of its duration.
Jeming closed his eyes, forcibly ignoring the Pain that was almost drowning his consciousness, and once again sank his mind into his Inner Grotto Heaven.
This time, he couldn’t even maintain clear Introspection, and could only vaguely sense the mountains of supplies piled up within the Grotto Heaven.
Among them were large quantities of spare "Ruins Armor Activation Units" and "Fire Extinction Divine Light Recharging Substrates," all sealed in standard Energy cassettes.
Mobilizing them would likewise require opening a spatial channel, and would likewise consume his nearly exhausted Calculation Power.
"Urgh—ah!!!" A soundless roar echoed in the depths of his Soul.
Veins bulged on Jeming’s forehead as cold sweat instantly soaked through his underlayer.
It felt like his brain had been thrown into a meat grinder, every strand of thought stretched to the limit as if it could snap at any moment.
On the surface of his body, fifty extremely unstable spatial vortices flickered into existence around the Black Giant Priests, then shuddered violently and snapped shut in less than two seconds.
But in that brief two‑second window, one hundred standard Energy cassettes were successfully "spat out," dropping with pinpoint accuracy beside each Priest’s hand.
"Recharge... witchcraft artifacts..." Jeming’s will was like a candle in the wind, yet he still managed to send it to the two nearest Priest Leaders.
The Priests understood at once.
Their movements were swift and orderly; while maintaining the defensive formation and advancing, they quickly grabbed Energy cassettes and pressed them onto the interfaces on their wrist-guards or breastplates.
The dark-golden glow of the Ruins Armor visibly grew more solid, and the dark red gems at the tips of their Magic Staffs once again filled with a dangerous crimson light.
But this series of actions also exposed the fact that Jeming had already woken up and was still trying to resist.
The assault from the enemies on the perimeter suddenly became even more furious and insidious.
At the same time, several malicious Spiritual Power voice transmissions began deliberately piercing through the gaps in the defensive ring, drilling into Jeming’s ears, trying to disrupt his mindset:
"Still struggling? What a stubborn little bug!"
"It’s pointless! You’re not getting away!"
"Lord Griffin is already on the way! Let’s see how long that turtle shell of yours lasts in front of his power!"
"Hahaha, just wait to die, trash from Nolun Workshop!"
Griffin?
From what they were saying, the other side should be a Sixth Level Wizard.
Jeming’s heart sank to rock bottom.
The situation he feared most was unfolding before his eyes.
Once the enemy’s Sixth Level Wizard arrived, even the most ordinary Sixth Level, their offensive power would be far beyond anything a Fifth Level could match.
Jeming had just fought a Sixth Level Wizard and knew very well how the Ruins Armor performed against a Sixth Level.
What’s more, the opponent was very likely to bring more Fifth Level Wizards, completely cutting off every escape route.
With every second, time was sliding toward the Abyss.
The Black Giant Priests tried several times to force an Acceleration breakout, even at the cost of taking blows head-on, using their bodies to smash through those viscous Force Fields.
But the enemy Wizards were too many and cooperated too smoothly; they could always fill the gaps at once, using more, denser attacks to force them back.
After several attempts, their movement speed still showed no improvement.
The searing Pain in his Soul and the desperate situation were like two rasps, grinding Jeming’s nerves again and again.
He leaned against the Priest’s cold arm; his vision began to blur once more, and his consciousness drained away like air leaking from a punctured ball.
They had clearly already won just now... was he... really going to die here?
Just as his awareness was about to sink into darkness again...
The Rune on his wrist, which had long since sent out a distress signal, suddenly transmitted a series of clear, rhythmic pulses.
That was... the specific response frequency of Nolun Workshop’s internal communication cipher!
It meant their reinforcements had received the signal and were closing in!
Almost at the same time, the continuous bombardment on the perimeter stuttered for a brief instant.
Those malicious jeers cut off abruptly, replaced by uneasy commotion and short, warning shouts:
"Watch the east side! High-energy reaction!"
"It’s people from Nolun Workshop! How did they get here so fast?!"
"No... that’s... Sixth Level! Two Sixth Levels!"
"Fall back! Move to Lord Griffin, now!"
The suffocating pressure of the attacks overhead suddenly lightened.
Jeming used the last of his strength to force his stiff neck to turn, peering through the gaps between the Priests’ bodies toward the direction of the Energy fluctuations.
In the distant sky, the gray-black dust was violently torn open, and two figures wreathed in overwhelming Sixth Level aura were the first to break into his field of view.
Behind them followed a small squad of elite Fifth Level Wizards, moving fast and in tight formation.
One of those figures, Jeming knew all too well.
Silver-gray long hair whipped in the chaotic Energy currents, and on that doll-like exquisite face there was none of the usual elegance or mockery, only an icy chill and killing intent frozen in place.
She held no Magic Staff. Her hand merely closed on empty air, yet the space around her faintly rippled with distorted waves steeped in "Pain."
Viola.
His senior, the Sixth Level Wizard who took delight in others’ Pain, yet had never once let him down at a critical moment.
The instant he saw that figure, the last taut string he’d been clinging to finally snapped.
His strained will slackened; boundless darkness rose once more like a warm tide, surging in and drowning out all sensation.
Just before he completely blacked out, a single blurry thought flashed through Jeming’s mind:
"Nice timing, senior..."
His head lolled weakly to the side as he sank into an even deeper coma.
On the perimeter, the enemy Wizards, at the very moment Viola and the others appeared, scattered in a panicked retreat like a startled school of fish.